


For Every Season

by Viscariafields



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-06 13:56:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11602035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viscariafields/pseuds/Viscariafields
Summary: Post-destroy ending, Garrus and Shepard are heading toward a happily ever after. Or maybe a kind of grumpily and shoutily ever after. Which for them is pretty happy.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Aftermath

“Garrus, did you hear what I said?” Tali stepped around the boulder where he was sitting. _Posing, more like, the dramatic fuck_. He was silhouetted against the enormous moon of the planet they were marooned on, the outline of his fringe sharp in the evening air as he looked out over the valley. He’d been sitting out here every day, not helping with repairs. Tali walked down a couple times a day with some food, but he barely ate it. For once in his life, he was quiet. When he slept, if he slept, he slept in the main missile battery. Or maybe he was sleeping on this damn rock right now while Tali tried to tell him something important.

“They found her. She’s still alive. Kaidan declared a ship’s holiday. I think, perhaps, it’s a galactic holiday.”

Garrus took a deep breath. Then he laughed, hoarsely, his voice unused for at least a week. “I knew it.” His laughter was absorbed into the foliage around them, and numerous small creatures hooted back at him. He leapt to his feet. “ _I KNEW IT,”_ he bellowed, causing Tali to jump back away from him as he flung his arms out.  He whipped around to look at her, life and humor and optimism in his face again. “What are you out here for? You need to get that tin can flying again.”

Back on the ship, the crew was doing anything but working. Every libation that had been squirreled away for rainy days had been brought out and was flowing freely on the third deck. As Garrus made his way through the crowd, every crew member stopped to pat him on the back and try to shove a drink into his hand.

 “The man of the hour!” Kaidan’s face was already bright red as he raised his bottle to Garrus, “A toast to Garrus Vakarian!” The crew roared as if Garrus himself had been dragged back from death that day.

“A toast to our tiny, cranky commander and her enormous, cranky lover!” called out Tali, who had found straws for each bottle James had handed her.

“A toast to the only thing on this ship sharper than Shepard’s tongue!” Samantha practically shimmied as she shouted.

“Fuck the Reapers!” James yelled, and a chorus of “fuck the reapers” reverberated through the entire crew. The rest of the night was a blur of toasts and shots until the last dregs of hidden liquor had been drunk. James and Kaidan decided to help haul Garrus up to Shepard’s cabin, and when that trio fell over next to the elevator in a pile of muscles and laughter, Tali, Liara, Samantha, and Joker decided to “help.” For the first time since destroying the Reapers, Garrus woke up in Shepard’s cabin on the Normandy. For the first time in his life, he woke up in a dogpile of hungover humans who had taken the opportunity to raid Shepard’s hidden stash of liquor.

Looking at Shepard now, the memories of that night seem so _foolish_. She looked small, so much of her body was bandaged. So much of her body was _missing._ He stood crouched in the doorway of the London hospital, duffel bag slung over one shoulder and black widow over the over, finally, finally here, and he didn’t want to take this last step into the room.

“Mr. Vakarian?” Dr. Raj eyed him expectantly, and Garrus stepped across the threshold into the room filled with machines keeping Shepard alive. “Your timing is actually excellent. Her skin grafts have almost healed, and we’ll be taking her off the drugs that are keeping her asleep soon.”

Garrus dropped the duffel next to the door and approached the bed. She looked expressionless, empty. Her hair had begun to grow out in curly tufts. He gently held a finger to an unbandaged part of Shepard’s face. The doctor continued to update him. “We have already fit her for a prosthetic arm, though she will need rehab to learn to use it. And we can grow her a replacement, but that does take months and after the occupation, our resources are scarce. Of course, for _her,_ everyone will agree it will be worth it. The replacement surgery _is_ extremely painful and again, there is a slow rehab process. The new arm will never be like the old, but most prefer it to prosthetics.”

Garrus nodded along numbly. He looked at his hand touching her face, and absentmindedly reflected that he had more fingers than she did now.

As if reading his mind, Dr. Raj added, “She is also missing two fingers on her right hand.”

Garrus finally turned away from Shepard to look incredulously at the small doctor. “You’re telling me she only has three fingers _total_ now?”

Dr. Raj was unfazed by his stare. “Yes, but humans can make do with just a thumb and an index finger. Commander Shepard also has her middle finger, so she should be just fine.”

“I have always assumed there is a reason your species has five fingers.”

“If she really finds that having three fingers is untenable, she can get them replaced. But I imagine you’ve done just fine with three all of this time. Perhaps you can help her adjust.”

“You said she still has her middle finger?” The doctor nodded. “Good. She… likes that one.” Garrus let out a long breath of air in a thrum. “Is there anything else she’s missing that I should know about?”

“Nothing we haven’t replaced.” The doctor hesitated, “The bigger concern, Mr. Vakarian, is brain damage. Now we’ve done scans, and as far as we can tell, her brain looks pretty good. But she lost a lot of blood and was under that rubble for almost a week before we found her. She could have memory loss, problems with motor control, speech… we won’t know until she wakes up. But humans can heal. With therapy, she can overcome any and all of it. We don’t know yet.”

Garrus hated hospitals. He’d spent so long waiting on that damn planet, helping with the Normandy’s repairs, and in the end, it hadn’t mattered. As dextro war heroes on a levo ship crashed on a levo planet, he and Tali were slated the first possible rescue mission. It had been strange saying goodbye to the Normandy crew, knowing he would see Earth before they would. He didn’t realize he was going straight to a hospital. And when he arrived in full body armor with a sniper rifle slung over one shoulder, a human in blue pajamas had the nerve to tell him that because he was not family, he couldn’t see Shepard. He had ignored the ensuing argument between doctors, nurses, and staff—if Shepard had taught him anything, it was that with enough shouting and a big enough gun he could be pretty persuasive—but this ruckus meant Shepard wasn’t able to tell them all to shove it. She wasn’t conscious. For the first time, it occurred to him that maybe she wasn’t alright.

Dr. Raj gently steered him to a chair meant for a much shorter person. The machines beeped and the fluids dripped and Garrus held his head in his hands. “Would it be alright if I… uh… that is…is there room… for me to… uh…” he nodded his head toward Shepard.

“Room for you to…?” Dr. Raj looked at him blankly.

“Would I be able to… lie down… next to her?”

Understanding dawned on the doctor’s face. “Ah. Yes, well, if you think you can fit on our human beds, there’s no harm in it. In fact, having familiar things around her would be helpful for her when she wakes up.”

Garrus grabbed the duffel bag. “I have some of her things in here…” He unzipped it and pulled out the model Normandy. Dr. Raj’s eyes did not land on the ship, however. She was looking at a glass box containing a small wheel and what looked like—“Did you bring a hamster into a hospital room?”

“She, uh… she loves it.” He said simply. “The last person who tried to… remove her hamster ended up dangling out of the cargo hold.” He held the cage up to look at terrified rodent, who had not appreciated being stuffed in a duffel. “This guy survived the Omega Relay with us.”

Dr. Raj was holding back a smile. “The great Commander Shepard, Destroyer of Cerberus, Slayer of Reapers, who blew up the Citadel and all the mass relays and will live to tell about it… loves a smelly, furry little rodent?”

Garrus’s mandibles twitched. “She also loves a hideous spiky monster.”

Dr. Raj laughed at that. “Unfortunately, you cannot keep the hamster in here. You can take it up front to the waiting room, and someone will take care of it there. We’ll get someone in here to do her final checks before we take her off the drugs keeping her asleep, and then you can come back in here and wait for her to wake up.”

When Garrus returned sans hamster, there were fewer machines and tubes and bandages, and he started placing her model ships on every surface he could find. There was a small set of drawers next to her bed, and inside he found her dog tags and a ring on a chain. He carefully placed her pajamas next to them. He awkwardly removed his armor, painfully aware of all the humans around who sometimes walked into hospital rooms without warning. The bed was small, but he and Shepard had made it work in worse sleeping situations. He gently moved her toward the far side of the bed, and climbed up next to her, lying awkwardly on his arm, trying not to disturb the wires monitoring her vitals. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine they were somewhere else, somewhere where people didn’t use words like “brain damage,” somewhere where they had more than nine fingers between the both of them.

Garrus woke with a start. Had Shepard moved? Her eyes were still closed. He tried to adjust himself to see her better, but his right arm had gone completely numb. No, his right _side_ had gone completely numb. If he could reach around Shepard with his other arm without disturbing her and just scoot himself a little to the left he could just…

For a brief moment Garrus’s long arm waved wildly in the air before he slammed into the hospital floor. A long, slow groan erupted from his mouth.

Then, from the bed above him, a sleepy voice said, “Walk it off, babe.”

The wind was knocked out of him all over again. Garrus rolled onto his side, spasms of laughter preventing him from standing up. _Walk it off?_ Shepard was _fine_.

 


	2. Escape

As the doctor left the room, Shepard looked at her remaining hand and made a fist. Half a fist, anyway. After what happened on the Citadel, Shepard hadn’t planned on waking up ever again. Waking up with Garrus beside her was unexpected. It was good. She knew this. Her gut didn’t seem to know it yet, however, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were in danger. She checked and rechecked her exits. She counted the men in the hallway by their footsteps. _Hospital staff,_ she told herself. _Threats,_ the persistent feeling shot back. She clenched and unclenched her hand, glaring at her three fingers.

Garrus was watching her. She tried to lighten her mood. “No one’s given me a mirror yet. Am I finally as ugly as you?”

From the end of the bed, Garrus quipped back, “Hell, Shepard, you were always gorgeous. Would you believe you actually have fewer facial scars now? It’s almost a shame they healed up your old ones, though. I liked that we matched.”

“I could always slap some face paint on.” Shepard touched her cheek and found only soft, new skin in place of her familiar scars. She made half a fist again. “Who’s going to find me intimidating now?”

“You could always shout at some nurses. But something tells me they don’t scare easy.”

Shepard swung her legs off the bed and put her feet on the floor. “Come on. I need to get out of this room. I need some air.”

Garrus popped up off the bed in alarm. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Do you even know if you can walk?”

Shepard rolled her eyes and flexed her toes. “For the past four years, every time I’ve woken up in a hospital bed, people have expected me to start shooting immediately.” She looked at the IV still attached to her hand and added thoughtfully, “I might need a smaller gun this time, though. Come on, help me get this thing out.”

Garrus balked, “Shouldn’t we get a doctor or something? I don’t think I know enough about human anatomy to start…”  

Shepard cut him off. “Don’t be so modest, Garrus. I’ve always found your knowledge of anatomy to be more than satisfactory.” She smiled at him wickedly as she brought her hand to her mouth. She wasn’t going to wait here. She had to move. “But if you won’t help….” She pulled the needle out with her teeth. Garrus had barely reacted to that before Shepard was pushing herself out of bed. He lunged to catch her just as her knees buckled.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Cerberus did a way better job putting me back together,” she growled, “And they told me I didn’t even technically die this time.”

Garrus wasn't laughing. He pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly to him. Shepard stiffened at first, still overcome with her feelings of restlessness, but she forced herself to relax into his chest. snaking her arm around his waist.

 “I didn’t—“ Garrus’s voice cracked and he lowered his head to nuzzle her hair. “We’re not fighting anymore. You don’t have to rush this.”  

She wasn’t fooling him. “I… I need to get out of this room, Garrus. I need air.”

He loosened his hold on her. “Let me see if I can find you a wheel chair or something.”

Shepard snorted. “Just carry me.”

Garrus slowly made his way through the hallway, trying not to bang Shepard’s feet on anything. He hadn’t thought he could top his initial arrival at the hospital, carrying a sniper rifle and a hamster, but Shepard had a way of proving him wrong. All eyes were on him as he carried a one-armed war hero wearing a hospital gown that appeared to have yellow earth birds printed on it.

“This may be the least intimidating you’ve ever been in your life, Shepard.”

 She squirmed a little. “It would be a lot more comfortable if you weren’t wearing full body armor. Who needs armor in a hospital?”

“I can still dump you into a wheel chair.”

Shepard snorted.

“After all the times I’ve dragged your ass out of the fire?”

“Fires you started.”

They were interrupted by an exceedingly brave Alliance guard who stopped them at the elevator. Shepard gently explained to him exactly what she thought about restricted areas and getting medical clearance while Garrus simply stepped around the quivering man to enter the elevator. Finishing her dressing down of the man, Shepard demanded his access card, hit the button for the roof, and handed it back to him before the doors shut.

On the roof, the sky was pink with the sunset. Being alone outside, Shepard finally felt like she could take a breath. At her behest, Garrus put her down. She had to see the city, see for herself the absence of raging war, see what was left of the world she saved. Her first few steps were shaky, but sheer determination propelled her to the edge of the roof.

There were people on the ruined streets. Out in the open, unafraid, rebuilding. Survivors. There were reaper corpses, too. The knot in her stomach tightened. How long had she been in a coma? Had someone told her? They should have cleaned up the corpses by now. They should have destroyed them. Even dead, the fight was not over if Reapers still occupied Earth. Her gaze drifted upward, and her eyes were drawn to the blue beam at the center of the city, reaching into space. She felt her body stiffen. She fought to control her breathing.

Garrus had been shadowing her, giving her the room and the air she needed. Now he followed her gaze. “They’ve been using it for transport to the Citadel. There were a lot of survivors there. And…”

“I know what was there.” Shepard tore her eyes away. She did not want to think about the Citadel. She was trying to convince herself that this fight was over, and she didn’t need that beam reminding her, taunting her…  Her hand instinctively moved to hold her midriff, the spot where she had fought to keep her own insides from falling out. She could feel the bumps of a large scar through her hospital gown. She walked to the other side of the roof, away from the beam, and watched the sunset. More corpses. More threats from dead machines. She wanted to pretend, she wanted to forget, and if she kept her eyes on the horizon… Garrus wrapped his arms around her from behind. Shepard leaned back into him and closed her eyes.

“We really did it, didn’t we?” It wasn’t a question. Garrus leaned down to nuzzle her hair. Facing away from the city, it was peaceful. Quiet. She could believe that the war was over. Destroying the remains wasn't war-- it was cleanup. 

Shepard turned around to look at Garrus. In the early evening glow, his hard edges seemed softer. She never wanted to look at anything else. Raising her hand to touch his face, she said, “Come closer, Mr. Vakarian.”

Garrus started to lean in, but then scooped her into a dramatically low dip. Shepard smiled, throwing her arm around his neck, and kissed him. She kissed his nose. She kissed his mandibles. She kissed his scars. She could keep kissing him forever, she thought, if only that damn humming noise would stop…

Garrus opened his eyes in time to see Shepard looking past him, aiming a pistol at a media drone filming their embrace. Three shots rang out and the drone hit the roof with a tiny puff of smoke. Shepard smiled.

Garrus yanked her up into a standing position and stomped on the smoldering drone. “Where the fuck did you get that pistol?”

“Stole it off the guard,” she said, scanning the air for more.

“Where were you keeping it??” He eyed her hospital gown incredulously, almost afraid of her answer.

Shepard turned her head to grin at him. “I stuck it to your armor.”

Garrus’s mouth hung open. His mandibles twitched. “You… you are the craziest woman I have ever met.”

 Shepard studied the pistol in her hand. Three fingers seemed to be enough. Something about that little flying machine triggered the knot in her stomach to churn. Reaper corpses littered the Earth, and someone was using their time and resources to spy on her. “Those drones don’t have a big range," she said slowly, "Are there reporters outside of the hospital?”

Garrus suddenly wished he could have that pistol back. “I think I passed a few on my way in. I wasn't really paying attention. Why? What are you... thinking about doing?”

Shepard popped the heat sink on the pistol and smiled at Garrus. “I think it’s time I got on camera.”


End file.
